Peace of Mind
by Alone in the Desert
Summary: Daine experiences the perils of motherhood. One-shot


_Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. _

_A/N: Written for Candice's Christmas exchange – Daine or Aly as a completely inept mother. _

Peace of Mind 

_December, 470 HE, the 31st year of the reign of King Jonathan IV and Thayet, his Queen _

On a bitterly cold December morning, there was nothing better to do than cuddle in a thick, fleecy blanket in front of a roaring hearth. Her face toasting from the fire and her toes pleasantly warm, Daine lazed unashamedly in her family's tower home on the Western coast. A shrill cheep startled her from her peaceful reverie; she recognized Kitten's whistles as surprised and, to _her_ surprise, indignant and confused. She rose reluctantly and stretched, leaving the comfort of her fireside to seek out the irate dragonet.

"What is it, Kit?"

Kitten was in the entrance hall, standing cat-style on her hindquarters, pointing a silvery-clawed paw at the oaken front door. Said door was being shut by a figure so wet and mud-stained it was almost unrecognizable. A puddle of murky rainwater was quickly forming at its feet. Drawing a hand over its face in apparent weariness, the figure turned to face her.

"Rikash!"

"Hello, ma," said the boy. She had no imagined the weariness; his voice sounded bone tired.

"What are you doing here? Last I heard, Twenty Seventh Group was looking for merthieves near Seabeth and Seajen." As she spoke, she dragged her second child from the hall into the warm sitting room. His clothes were sopping, from the cloak to the brown tunic and breeches of the Queen's Riders uniform. When he pulled off his boots with icy fingers, even his stockings were wet and muddy.

"They call themselves the Mages, now, ma," said Rikash, pulling a stool close to the fire. "Kuda is in the stables. I groomed him before I came in."

Daine leaned back to look at him, smiling. "That's my boy." Her children had been reared to care for their animals as they cared for themselves from an early age. "Well, where are the _Mages_, then?" she asked.

Rikash shrugged, and his dark eyes became unreadable, closing her off. "As you said," he answered, "hunting the merfolk on the Northern coast."

"Why did Hashem give you leave to visit home, then," his mother asked, after a brief struggle to recall the name of the captain of the Rider group that Rikash belonged to.

"He didn't," said Rikash very quietly, face still locked in that closed expression.

She realized that her instincts had been screaming that something was wrong for quite some time, and she'd been deliberately ignoring their warning. "Rikash," she said, "you _know_ you're not allowed to leave your Group without leave. Why did you come?" She wanted to ask, _What's__ wrong_, but didn't dare.

He was looking at the floor when he answered her, but his voice was clear and almost calm. "Ma, I know. You know, it was your idea I join the Riders, to begin with."

"It's the best place for your talents," she said reasonably. "Don't tell me working with the ponies all the time didn't teach you anything." Rikash had inherited her wild magic rather than his father's Gift, although his wasn't quite as powerful as hers. He spoke with animals often, but rarely shape-shifted and always with difficulty.

"Of course I _learned_, ma," he said, his inflection growing acrid. "That doesn't change the fact that it _was_ your idea. I'd never have joined if you hadn't said you wanted me to -- which you did, many, _many_ times."

"I never forced you to do anything, you know that!" she objected, her voice rising and her cheeks growing hot. She could not understand where his rancor had come from; it was very new to her.

"Oh, no, ma," replied Rikash sharply, looking up. "No, you never _forced_ me to anything, of course. It's not like I felt I _must_ join the Riders just for you to respect me, to be proud of me. It's not like your approval, da's too, always hung on how well Sarralyn and I did for the throne, and the Crown, and the realm!" His mouth with its full lips contorted, and his dark eyes were wide and glaring. Daine was strangely reminded of a spitting stallion in a tantrum. Rikash, unaware of his mother's thoughts, went on. "What if I want to do well for _myself_ for once, ma? What if I don't _like_ being a soldier --"

"-- Rider!" she corrected, aggravated.

"It's the same thing!" he cried out, throwing his hands in the air. "There _is_ no difference, don't you see? What's the difference between me and those raiders and immortals and other soldiers we go up against? Ma, I don't want to be always fighting, always killing. It's not _right_. Every creature has a right to live, even Hurroks and Stormwings."

Daine crossed her arms over her chest and breathed deeply. "A being forfeits its right to live when it interrupts the lives of other creatures," she said with a semblance of calm.

"Does that mean wolves, too?" asked her son fiercely, almost snarling.

"Oh, of course not, Rikash, don't be ridiculous," she answered derisively.

Rikash glared at her. "What's the difference?" he asked again, more quietly. "I ruined the lives of the soldiers I killed, and their families. Do I forfeit my right to live?" He sounded like he knew the answer before asking, and it wasn't the one she wanted to give; that terrified her.

"What about me?" she asked. "What about your father? What about your godsmother and your friends from the Riders? Are we all murderers, now?"

He did not answer.

"All I'm doing is protecting myself!" she said hotly. "Myself, and my family! I am _not_ a murderer! Everything I did, I did for you and your sister!"

"And how could I be so ungrateful?" he asked sourly. "The ones you killed had children, too!"

She shook her head and sank into a chair by the fire, leaning her face on her palms. "You don't understand," she sighed.

"No, I don't," he agreed. "I will never understand how anyone can bring themselves to kill another creature."

"Not even in self-defense?" asked his mother.

"There is no good reason to fight. There is no good reason to kill." His voice was flat, decisive, and infinitely condemnatory.

"Is this why you stopped eating meat?" she asked. The letter had come nearly a year ago, informing Master and Mistress Salmalín of their son's unusual behavior. His superiors wanted to be sure the parents did not consider any ill-health their son might experience to be the failing of his officers. They had written back saying that Rikash was master of his own fate, although privately they wondered what had brought on this change. Wild magic had not kept Daine from eating the meat of domestic animals or fish, not in over thirty years of possessing it.

He nodded, apparently too overwrought to speak.

"You'll hurt your health!" she said. A part of her knew she was being irrational.

Rikash glared at her from narrow eyes. "My health has never been better," he informed her, every word clipped.

She half-shook her head. "What's next? No eggs, or cheese?"

He just looked at her, tight-mouthed.

"What _do_ you eat, then?" she demanded.

"Beans," he said. "Vegetables and mushrooms, nuts, fruit, seeds."

"Seeds?" She could not keep the contempt from her voice.

When he locked his arms across his chest she could not help but notice how like his father he looked. "Yes, ma," he said, his voice almost cool and almost calm. Almost distant, too. "Seeds: sunflower seeds, wheat-grain, flax seeds. What's wrong with that?"

She didn't speak, for fear of estranging him still more. She could feel him pulling away from her, with his body and his mind. When she'd left him in the Riders' recruiting ground she never thought she was losing him; she was proud. Now, though he sat just across from her and close enough that she could reach out and touch him, he was farther away than he had ever been. How could he think her a murderer?

"Is it murder, then, to eat chicken and fish?" asked Daine, purposefully bringing up the two animals she'd never felt remorse about killing for food.

"You should know better than anyone that animals and two-leggers aren't completely different!" For the first time that morning, his mouth twisted with dismay.

Daine snorted. "Killing a chicken has never hurt me," she said.

"Why?" asked Rikash.

"Chickens are stupid," she said with a dismissing shrug.

"So is Kalen," he replied. "Would you kill him?"

Kaden was his parents' godsson, the first grandchild of one of their closest friends. Only a year or so younger than Rikash, Kaden's birth had been rife with complications and, when he was five, the healers pronounced to his parents that he'd been born a simpleton and that nothing could be done. Upset though they were, Kaden's parents raised him faithfully and, since they held the favor of the Kyprin queen, even found a place where he could work at menial labor, supervised by trusted friends. Still, their story was the stuff of infamous gossip, since the difficult delivery had rendered Lady Alanna's daughter unable to conceive again. Compassion had its limits; no one wanted a half-wit as their only child.

Rikash knew that the idea of putting Kaden to death was an issue of contention for his parents. When the healers made their ruling, more than one friend of the family suggested that the child be mercifully killed, for his and everyone else's benefit. His father had said to his mother that he could hardly consider the idea merciful, and had written to the Copper Isles to tell the confused couple as much. Daine Salmalín was of two minds; her wolf friends spoke of a runt cub's inability to survive, and coming to disagree with them was one of the most difficult decisions of her life. She often spoke of it as such. Yet finally she, too, had written to the parents of her godsson, advising them to the best of her ability.

Now his mother looked at him with feverishly angry eyes. "You know I would not," she said. "You _know_."

"Then how could you say something like that?" he asked, close to tears. "How could you say that hurting another living being is just fine, as long as you don't feel his pain?"

"That is _not_ what I said!" she objected heatedly.

"Ma," started Rikash.

"No," said Daine firmly. "Just _no_. I will _not_ have you thinking -- it's _un_acceptable -- I just can't --"

"Can't what?" asked Rikash despairingly. "Listen to what I have to say? Let me speak my mind, maybe even convince you?"

"You won't convince me," said Daine, shaking her head. "Rikash, I know it may not seem that way to you, but my opinions are not random. I thought long and hard before reaching the conclusions I live by today. You won't change my mind."

Rikash sighed and rubbed his forehead. "If you won't even try and listen, then I suppose we'll never agree."

"I suppose," said Daine. "Well, ideology is all very well and good, but we've matters of practicality to deal with. Why did you desert without leave? You could have resigned, you know."

"You don't know Hashem as I do, ma," said Rikash with a sigh. "He couldn't just let me resign. He'd insist on knowing why, and then give me a two hour long motivational speech to try and convince me to stay. I just wasn't up to it. I needed to be elsewhere, and I couldn't take all that fighting anymore."

"You might have listened to him, you know," she said. "It couldn't be all that bad."

"I told you, I just _couldn't_, ma," said Rikash.

She was quiet for a moment, then said, "What will you do?"

Rikash shrugged. "Hashem knows I'm gone. He sent someone after me, probably as soon as he found out. Everyone says whoever it is was riding about two days behind me."

She didn't need to ask who _everyone_ was. "And when they reach here? Will you still be here? Will you go with them?"

Rikash sat, considering. "If I let them take me to Corus, they'll want to know why I left. I could lie and try to resign for personal reasons. I could tell the truth. If I tell the truth, they will probably try me in front of the Commander. Unless you intervene, they'll convict me. That probably means I'll be hanged."

Daine watched her son's thought process, trying to hide her stare. Never had she thought she'd hear one of her kits speak so easily of being hanged for treason against the realm. Yet, not only was Rikash guilty of the treason he was in danger of being hung for, neither part seemed to bother him. For all intents and purposes he looked like he was ready to face the gallows for his crime.

Obliviously, the boy went on. "If I don't want to lie and I don't want to get convicted, my only choice is not to let them catch me. I won't fight them if they come, but the People should warn me in time to quietly slip away."

"Is that what you'll do?" asked Daine, dizzy.

"I think so," he answered. "Ma, I'm not ready to die. Not even for my crimes."

It was a moment before she realized the crimes he spoke of and the crimes she'd been thinking of were not the same ones. "Where will you go?"

Rikash sighed. "I can't keep running forever," he said. "I need to cross the border, disappear."

"Where to?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I don't think I should tell you that, or da and Sarralyn. It won't be safe for either of us, not until they stop looking for me. I wish I could tell you when that will be."

"Are you going now?" asked Daine past the lump in her throat.

"Kuda wouldn't like that," he said earnestly. "Frankly, neither would I. We'll wait out the rain, maybe eat something. I still have some things in my room that I'll want to take with me. I'd leave Kuda here but then they'll know I stayed with you, which would be risky. Maybe I'll find another pony at a horse market. I knew I should have taken Ralfe, too, but he was tired and not quite up to the run.

"Oh, ma?"

She looked up; she'd been staring at her hands while Rikash spoke mostly to himself. "Hmm?"

Rikash smiled and his eyes shone. "Tell them to pair Ralfe with Ciera. They get along best."

Daine offered her son a smile that she did not feel. "I will," she promised softly. "Come into the kitchen, and I'll find you something to eat."


End file.
